


I Need You Right Here (By My Side)

by GobsKnobs, SirSirWolficus



Series: Love of my Life (Don't Take Him From Me) Collection [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia and Jaskier | Dandelion Are Soulmates, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, Touch-Starved Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher), geralt can have a little bit of cuddles and soft touch. as a treat, i love these fools so much, i still cant believe thats a tag lmao, they make flower crowns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:02:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23335069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GobsKnobs/pseuds/GobsKnobs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirSirWolficus/pseuds/SirSirWolficus
Summary: A vision of beauty didn’t even begin to describe the sight before the witcher, soft golden light seemed to make Jaskier’s skin glow, the flowers making his eyes almost glow, the sight made his instincts purr as he was filled with the very strong urge to kiss the man, Geralt tried to stuff his feelings back where they belonged, locked deep down inside of him.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Love of my Life (Don't Take Him From Me) Collection [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670911
Comments: 23
Kudos: 523





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all, remember when I said I'd try and get this finished before four days ago? yeah, me too. I forgot to put this in the other work, But I've only watched the show, and haven't played the games,,, I have the first few books and I'm starting to read through them so I'm really sorry for any oocness in the series.

After a few months of traveling together, the animal instincts inside of Geralt have grown bolder and bolder, causing him to become less rigid with his desires about embracing and keeping the bard safe and happy. It's…  _ Unsettling  _ to the witcher to say the very least, but Jaskier took it in stride, now openly holding Geralt’s hand and sharing a bedroll with the fairly paper-thin excuse of “ _ It’s cold, Geralt, and you run hot as an oven, can we please share for tonight? _ ” the beast  _ damn near purred _ at that one. 

Jaskier is currently pressed up against Geralt, sleeping peacefully with his head resting on his chest, hand in a half-curled fist on Geralt’s abdomen, his soft breaths tickling his skin. The beast wanting nothing more than to  _ claim-protect-mark _ \- Geralt stops the train of thought before it can get out of control with a firm shake of his head. He can’t do that to Jaskier. He can’t take advantage of his kindness like that, the minstrel puts up with a lot of Geralt’s strangeness, and he needn’t add more onto the pile. Lest the man leaves Geralt behind with the same godsdamned disgusted look on his face that the people of Blaviken wore (anything but that, he could handle rage or being beat by the man but never disgust, it would shatter him) 

He shouldn’t be letting his emotions get the better of him like this, he’s not a weak little boy like he once was,  ~~ abandoned on the side of the road looking for his mother ~~

He growls deeply, his thoughts racing as he tries his best not to let them show on his face as he takes a calming breath in and lets it out slowly. The noise must have woken the young bard up, Jaskier yawns and rubs his eye blearily at Geralt,

“What's wrong?” he asks, turning on his stomach with his hand placed on the witcher’s chest. 

Shit, he hadn’t meant to wake the poor man with his- as Jaskier puts it-  _ brooding _ . 

“Nothing, go back to sleep lark,” He murmurs softly, placing his hand over Jaskier’s. He can feel guilty over the pet name later, it feels  _ right _ almost in this situation.  He pointedly ignores the warm feeling curling in his chest at the name too.

Jaskier’s eyes widen slightly for a moment, then close in a suspicious squint, like he  _ knows _ Geralt is feeding him a lie, but still settles down again, still not sleeping yet just adjusting his position to be more comfortable.  “Geralt, you know you can talk to me if something is bothering you, I know words aren’t exactly your strongest suit, but I’m willing to listen and wait it out,” he nuzzles back into the witcher’s side, “I’m your friend, after all.” 

The wolfish beast in Geralt preens and  _ purrs _ at the contact and honest words, and it takes every ounce of Geralt’s restraint to not  _ literally _ start purring, but still, a rumble slips through his metaphorical grasp which he manages to turn into a soft chuckle.  _ Nice save, dumbass. _ He chastises himself. 

“I’m not your friend,” a fucking  _ lie _ and anyone with eyes would call him on his shit, Jaskier included, “Go back to sleep, sorry for waking you.”

Jaskier just hums disbelievingly but still manages to fall back to sleep, muttering a soft, “You’re full of shit, darling” as he drifts back off into dreamland, his soft breaths and slowed heart rate cause the witcher to drift off as well, arms wrapped protectively around his bard as his soul mark sings at the contact. 

* * *

  
A few weeks later the bard got into a “ _ Light brawl with bigots”  _ as Jaskier had put it so eloquently that night, holding a cool cloth to his swollen eye. The men had cornered him after his performance while Geralt was out killing a small nest of drowners, having complaints with the company the bard kept. According to Jaskier, he had, 

“Gave as good as I got, Geralt. Those bastards deserved worse. Thankless louts.” Geralt just snorted and shook his head,

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Don’t need to- Geralt what the  _ fuck _ are you talking about? You’re my friend, dear witcher. Of course, I’d do that for you. Stop talking nonsense.” Jaskier says with a slightly disbelieving look on his face, as if Geralt is the fool in the situation, “I’ve worked hard to bolster the public’s opinion about you, we can’t afford to have these fools sullying your good name with their hateful words.” 

Geralt shifts on his feet, torn between holding his bard (wait- his??) and ordering a bath for himself, covered in guts and gore as he is, and he can still feel the effects of his potions zipping under his skin, making his instincts more at the forefront. His instincts had won out, he goes and sits beside Jaskier, and wraps his arms around the bard’s middle, being mindful of the bruising around his ribs and stomach (The snarling voice in his head thrashing against metaphorical chains, wanting to rip and tear the scum who had hurt  _ His  _ bard- again, what the  _ Fuck _ ).

Jaskier stills momentarily before sinking into the hold with a weary sigh, “Really, Geralt, I’ll be fine. I heal quickly, after all, you know this.”

“I know, doesn’t mean I like seeing you hurt.” Geralt mutters, frowning.

“Ah hah! I knew you cared about me, you brute,” the bard says fondly, tucking his head under the witcher’s chin, “Who knew, three months of contact has tamed the great White Wolf!”

“Careful lark, I can and will drop you.”  _ And only feel a bit guilty _ went unsaid. He would never willingly hurt the young minstrel, no matter what his empty threats suggested. 

“Whatever you say, wolf,” The bard murmurs, his eyes slipping closed and slumping more into Geralt’s hold. The witcher definitely  _ does not _ flounder internally, having an armful of sleeping bard, he eventually settles on laying the bard out on the bed, taking the cool cloth away and setting it on the edge of the washbasin. Geralt himself gets ready for bed, stripping himself of his armor as silently as he can, wishing to not wake the bard. 

Eventually, Geralt is ready for sleep, the worst of the gore cleaned, his weapons an arms breadth away, armor cleaned and safely tucked away in his pack. He settles behind the bard and wraps an arm around him gently, the motion accidentally rousing Jaskier from slumber. The bard turns in his hold and settles with his hand curled in the witcher’s shirt, and his head tucked under Geralt’s chin. They both drift off again, peaceful thoughts and pleasant dreams filling both of their heads. 

* * *

In the morning, they’re both on the road again, Geralt having been paid begrudgingly by a stout alderman only after Jaskier had all but thrown the heads of the drowners in the skeptical man’s face. Geralt had found the whole situation hilarious and endearing, almost telling the bard as much when they left the alderman’s home with pockets a little heavier than when they had entered. 

“I  _ hate _ when they do that!” The bard shouts, kicking a stone as hard as he can into the bushes.

“When who does what?” Geralt asks, leading Roach down the dirt path, the whole situation had happened 45 minutes earlier. Jaskier had been mostly silent the whole time, only occasionally murmuring mockingly under his breath and growling softly, so his little outburst had- admittedly- taken the witcher aback a little, not used to seeing the bard react like that even after months of traveling together. 

Jaskier snorts and gives Geralt a  _ look _ , “When those stupid people act like you're trying to-to-fuck! To swindle them! It’s fucking ridiculous! You take care of  _ their  _ problems, yet they have the  _ gall _ to act all haughty when the job is done! Its-” the bard flaps his hands around, searching for words, but gives up with a growl. “Ugh. Sorry, I don’t mean to yell. It’s just, agitating, to say the very least.”

Geralt snorts, “I could tell. It happens sometimes, that’s just the way it is. Humans can be very ungrateful, unfortunately. It’s not like I can just leave their monsters behind to slaughter them all. Even the cruel ones deserve to live,” Jaskier just chuckles darkly.

“Oh, but I would.”

“No, you wouldn’t”

The bard deflates, “Yeah, you’re probably right.” his anger apparently had run its course, as the bard began plucking idly at his lute, running through scales and working over his setlists over and over as morning turned to noon, and the trio stopped for a short rest in a meadow. The clearing had long, soft grasses with colorful wildflowers and a small gurgling river. Roach bent down to begin eating her feast of grasses.  Geralt gives Jaskier the last bit of their water, as he leaves to fill the other skins with the clear river water. He pats Roach’s flank and murmurs to her softly, putting them away in the saddlebags. He turns back to the bard and is slightly perplexed to see Jaskier weaving flowers together in his lap, “What are you doing?” he asked.

The bard looks up for a moment, looking slightly shy at being caught, “Oh! I’m making a flower crown, the flowers were so beautiful and I wanted to keep some, come here a moment, Geralt. I want to see if this will fit.” Jaskier pats the grass beside him with a small smile before returning to weaving wildflowers in his lap.

Geralt hummed and sat rigidly beside Jaskier, watching curiously at the bard’s weaving. 

A soft breeze blew into the meadow, bringing the sweet scent of spring and wildflower to the witcher’s nose, it was extremely calming and almost-  _ domestic _ in some strange way.

“Finished!” before Geralt could protest, the ring of flowers was plopped on top of his head, prompting Geralt to sneeze at the onslaught of multiple smells at once so close to his face. The bard, gods damn him, started to laugh at the certainly odd picture the witcher made, patting Geralt’s shoulder and trying to muscle through his laughter the bard said, “it certainly suits you, my friend, would you like to learn how to make one?” Jaskier tilted his head slightly. 

Geralt tried his level best to glare at the bard for laughing at him, but still, hummed his assent. The bard’s face split with a wide grin as he clapped his hands together once before standing to grab more flowers, plopping a small pile in both of their laps, teaching the witcher how to braid the stems together and get them to stay without falling apart.  The whole activity took a few hours and many flowers lost, but Geralt smiled at his triumphant creation, “I think I have the hang of things now.” he held it up to Jaskier to inspect the bright blossoms.    
  
Jaskier grinned and patted Geralt’s shoulder, “It looks great dear witcher, definite improvement!” the bard took the flowers from Geralt’s grasp and placed them atop his head, “Now, we match! How do I look, Geralt? A vision of beauty, I assume?” 

A vision of beauty didn’t even begin to describe the sight before the witcher, soft golden light seemed to make Jaskier’s skin glow, the flowers making his eyes almost glow, the sight made his instincts purr as he was filled with the very strong urge to kiss the man, Geralt tried to stuff his feelings back where they belonged, locked deep down inside of him.    
  
“A vision of something, lark,” he said instead. 


	2. Jaskier's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank my bestest friend in the whole wide world, Wolf for beta-ing this work!!! PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD, GIVE THEIR WORKS SOME LOVE!!! THEY'RE AN AMAZING AUTHOR AND THEY DESERVE IT!!!!

Hanging upside down from a tree wasn’t one of Jaskier’s proudest moments. If anyone asked the bard how he managed to get himself in these predicaments, he would only say “Destiny has it out for me”, which might also be why he follows a stoic witcher like a lovesick puppy across the continent. 

He’s a hopeless romantic, what can he say. After wasting most of his adult life trying to decipher the meaning behind the scratchy handwriting of “Go back to sleep, Lark” on his arm, hopeless romance had become an old friend. 

Especially when he figured out who had said those words. Considering how he feels about destiny, he knows that Geralt would most likely never return his  _ stupid  _ feelings.

But yes, the tree. 

He was trying to sneak about the forest, hoping to catch a glimpse of the witcher at work. They were sent out into the woods to deal with a wyvern that had been eating up all of the farmer's cattle, along with the contract holder’s soulmate. Geralt had said something about not following him, that it was ‘ _far too dangerous_ ’, but Jaskier, the hapless fool he is, decided to follow behind the brooding witcher. 

_ ‘Now look where that has gotten you,’  _ Jaskier thinks bitterly, ‘ _ stuck in a gods-damned tree. Geralt probably doesn’t know where I am.’ _

He had been stuck in the tree for almost an hour when he heard the screeches of the wyvern followed by a terrible crash, presumably from Geralt’s killing blow. Geralt had said they were dangerous, but the bard had faith in his witcher’s abilities. He’d probably be back at the campsite by now, ready to leave Jaskier behind.

Jaskier decided to ignore the pain in his chest at the thought. 

The bard crossed his arms as he turned slowly from the momentum, his line of sight taking in the tree line, then turning to the trunk, then again the treeline, an annoyed Geralt, the tree trunk, wait-

“Ah! Geralt! Hello!” Jaskier had turned back towards the trunk, “I seem to be in a bit of a predicament, I know what you said but- ah- hold on,” he tried to wiggle his body to spin back towards Geralt “I can’t exactly make an epic ballad if I never see you in action, dear witcher.”

Geralt just hums and reaches up to stop the bard spinning, his eyes expressing his fond amusement. 

“I’ve told you before, Jaskier. You’ll get hurt if you decide to sneak out after me.” He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. “Maybe I’ll just leave you up here. You seem to be enjoying yourself.” 

The bard laughs sarcastically, “Oh, you’re such a comedian Geralt. If this witcher business fails, you should take up a career in entertaining nobles,” The witcher snorts indelicately. 

“Hmm. But who would save you from vengeful cuckolds? Certainly not a court jester?” 

“Yes, yes, I get it. I’ve learned my lesson- now, can you please cut me down?” 

Geralt just sighs and pulls his sword out, slicing cleanly through the hemp rope. Jaskier groaned as he hit the ground at Geralt’s feet, gaze swimming. 

“Thank you, darling,” Jaskier wheezes, rocking side to side slightly in a futile attempt to get the oxygen back into his lungs.

Geralt hums and sheaths his sword, helping Jaskier back onto his feet. 

He shakes his head and grins broadly up at the witcher, squeezing his shoulder, “So, are we off to deliver that wyvern’s odds and ends to the villagers?” 

“Hmm,” 

Of course. A true poet, that Geralt. 

“Absolutely profound, dear witcher,” Jaskier dusts off his trousers and shirt, “Your bottomless well of verbal prowess astounds me.” 

Clothing fixed and air back in his lungs, Jakier and Geralt set off to their small campsite, gathering up their belongings and putting them away in Roach’s saddlebags. They trudged to the small farming village to deliver news of the downed beast and to collect Geralt’s hard earned coin, all the while Jaskier thinking of mischievous plots to dole out to the contract holder if they didn’t pony up. 

* * *

The contract holder was a hardy, middle-aged woman, with her dark hair cut short just above her shoulders. Her clothes and hands were rough (a silver band on her left ring finger the only thing about her that looked immaculately well kept) and had a face that was tanned and weathered from long days outside in the sun. She was very grateful, fortunately for her, Jaskier had been fully prepared to get into a shouting spat with the woman, though not entirely sure if he’d win. She was very happy that the wyvern was gone, expression portraying her grim satisfaction,

“My Leah ought to be happy that you avenged her, even though she’s- she  _ was _ a bit shy of strangers.” The woman sniffed harshly, wiping at her eye with the back of her sleeve. Her soulmark was a dull grey on her tanned neck, marking her loss. 

The woman introduced herself as Venn as she led them into her home, mumbling about the mess of the small cottage. Small collections of lavender and other flowers were drying near the windows with some small earthenware cups set out on the table. Most of the cottage looked well lived in, like love was what had kept it together. 

Venn grabbed a coin purse and held it out towards Geralt, “Your payment, Master Wolf, thank you again for taking care of that… beast.” 

Jaskier always felt such pride and joy at people switching over from greeting the white haired man as butcher to now greeting him with Master Witcher, or Master Wolf. It was proof of Jaskier’s hard work at improving Geralt’s reputation. 

The witcher glanced at the coin purse and shook his head lightly, “No need. Your gratitude is payment enough. Thank you.” He smiled slightly at her, and turned to leave. Jaskier trailed after him, not without mumbling his thanks and condolences to Venn. 

‘ _ That was certainly unexpected,’  _ Jaskier thought with a puzzled expression on his face.

Geralt was waiting at the end of the dirt pathway, talking lowly to Roach. He looked up and grunted with furrowed brows at Jaskier, “What?” 

“Nothing, just… surprised, is all,” Jaskier shook off his shock and walked in step with Geralt as they set off down the road, “Venn was very nice. It’s not all too often we see kind villagers, eh, Geralt?” 

The older man just hummed, a fond smile on his face as he looked at him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL FOR BEING SO PATIENT!!! I was playing around with switching up the pov for future works. To clarify about the context of the soulmarks, The words are from situations where the marked person realizes they're in love with the speaker. often times, it's too late to act on the feelings. Just sayin'.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm working on some more chapters for this piece! I promise!!! again, y'all will be fed soon lmao.
> 
> EDIT: 4/6/20 I made a discord server for those interested,, like,, if you want to know when updates are coming or if you want to shout at me about the witcher, its all good fam :) LINK: https://discord.gg/wYCZgCn


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